


Future Perfect

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Episode Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-11
Updated: 2000-02-11
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: Burning Down The House, vampire ending with some Lilith and Al present tenses.This story is a sequel toLilith and Al.





	Future Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: "Future Perfect"
    Author: EA Karras and Magnes
    Series: "Mountie Slayer"
    Disclimers: DS belongs to Alliance
    Notes: This takes place partially before "Scenes From a Vampire Age",
    and partially after Lilith and Al. 
    
    ---
    
    He lay on the couch, half asleep and waiting for Fraser to get home.
    The Ice Queen had dragged him to one of those Canadian Wicca Public Function
    Dance Recital thigamajigs she always seemed to be in charge of. And Dief
    was with Ma Vecchio, having practically begged his way into a dinner/dessert
    type deal. So he was alone. And he felt alone, really alone for the first
    time in a while. 
    
    He curled up more on the couch, watching one of the weird psychic hotline
    commercials. He loved watching those. Sometimes, when he listened really
    close, he could get some idea of what the "caller's" real problems were.
    And they were a lot more interesting than those 'My boyfriend says he
    loves me, but I'm not sure, so I'll call a hotline' problems. 
    
    Stella had thought that ability weird, which said something about her.
    If a vengence demon thinks you're weird, it's time to evaluate. 
    
    Almost on cue, the phone rang. Maybe he'd be lucky, and it would be Fraser
    saying he was coming home early. 
    
    No such luck. It was Stella wanting to discuss a case. It took nearly
    five minutes to get her to leave him alone. He closed his eyes, remembering.
    
    ~~~~
    
    He'd been divorced a week now. One week without Stella, and he still
    felt like crap. He should be feeling great, it wasn't as if their marriage
    were a bed of roses. Whenever he so much as lifted a finger wrong, there
    she was with the screaming and the threats of losing bodily appendages.
    What kind of marriage was that? 
    
    An emotionally abusive one, that's what kind. And he thought that it
    should've been him who filed for divorce. Wished it had been him. He
    loved her, yes. But he also hated her. Hated her for what she'd done
    to him. 
    
    There was no esteem left in his body, his mind an emotionally scarred
    battleground. And he wished that he could hate her. Really, really hate
    her. 
    
    But he couldn't.
    
    He was dancing on his dance step marks when it happened. A sudden ache
    in the back of his eyes, then blinding flashes of pain and images. Suddenly,
    he was trying to hold himself up by grasping the stereo, tiny, pained
    moans coming out of his lips. 
    
    Flashing images. A man in red. A Mountie? A vampire. Gun shots. More
    flashes, faster and faster. A crucifixion. Marcus Ellery. Faster. Stella.
    A kid with funny hair and a tail. 
    
    He gripped his skull, falling to his knees on the floor. He could feel
    blood rushing from his nose in a gush. His breathing came in haggard
    gasps. "No...what...hap...God..." He fell forward, and the images slowed.
    The Mountie again. He felt a sense of calm, a sense of happiness in the
    pain. 
    
    The Mountie and him. Together. Happy. Safe.
    
    When? Could it be soon?  Please? 
     
    He remembered confusion, his own and the look in a pair of dark blue
    eyes  that expected him to be...someone else.  There was such disappointment
    and  hurt there, calling to him. 
     
    //Do something!// he screamed to the image in his mind.  If he didn't
    act  now, that dream of the future might not come true. 
     
    And he wanted that dream.  Craved it.  As a man in the desert craves
    water.   Safety.  Sanctuary in the form of dark hair and pale skin, a
    smile to live  and die for. 
     
    //Help me to forget her.// 
     
    Nothing else for it.  He felt his arms wrap around broad shoulders, pull
    a  stiff body into a tight embrace. 
     
    ...Fraser, buddy... 
     
    //I love you.// 
     
    Had he spoken those words aloud?  He tasted blood.  How long had he been
    lying here?  Long enough for his nosebleed to stop and the blood on the
    floor was a sticky stain.  He sat up, shivering and hugging himself,
    trying  to understand what had just happened.  Alone and lonely, in a
    world where  nobody cared. 
     
    ~~~~
     
    He woke with a start when the door rattled, jerking his head off the
    pillow  in time to hear Fraser's keys jingle. He struggled out of the
    couch and  hurried to the door, Fumbling with the locks to jerk it open.
    Fraser. The  Mountie looked wonderful in his uniform and boots. 
    
    He smiled at Ray's rumpled appearance and the detective felt his heart
    skip  a beat.  Suddenly he pulled Fraser into a tight hug, similar to
    the one he'd given him nearly 3 years ago. But longer, and definetly
    not one sided.  "Ray? Is something wrong? Did something happen?" Fraser
    whispered, twining his fingers in Ray's hair. 
    
    ~~~
    
    "Actually, I'm not at all sure he is my friend." 
    
    The words hurt more than the flash had. Hurt more than Stella ever had
    hurt him. He frowned, trying not to let his emotions seep through. Why
    did they hurt this much? He barely knew the guy, and obviously the Mountie
    had no idea who he was. Hadn't they told him? 
    
    The Mountie was saying something to him, looking at him with the same
    confusion that he had before. Something about his house. He followed,
    quietly. Thinking about the flash he'd had so many months ago. 
    
    He knew that he needed to be with the guy, by his side. Always. No matter
    what. 
    
    ***
    
    Later, after the whole fiasco with the performance artist and their conversation
    on the roof of the Riv, they sat in Ray's apartment eating takeout. Ray
    suddenly yawned, a long, jaw cracking yawn. Fraser looked surprised,
    then smiled. "I should go, let you sleep." 
    
    Ray shook his head, grabbing Fraser by the sleeve. "Where are you staying?
    Since your apartment went up, I mean." He was so tired, barely able to
    keep his eyes open, it had been so long since he'd had anyone over though,
    that he didn't want to let that go. Or Fraser. 
    
    "I don't know. I suppose my office."
    
    "At the.embassy...consular...consulate thing?"
    
    "Yes."
    
    "No."
    
    Fraser blinked, obviously surprised. "Pardon?"
    
    "You can stay here. I've got a couch. You can use it...." Not waiting
    for an answer, he pulled Fraser into the living room, opened the closet
    and started piling old pillows and blankets on the couch. He noticed
    Fraser's look of surprise. "What?" 
    
    The Mountie looked down, stammering in confused astonishment.  "I-I-wouldn't
    want to inconvieniance you that way...Ray." 
     
    He said the name hesitantly, as if he wasn't totally convinced it was
    actually Ray's or just borrowed for this role he played. 
     
    "It's no problem."  He looked over at the werewolf.  "Yer both welcome
    ta  stay as long as ya need." 
     
    When he lifted his head, Fraser's eyes were full of wonder that he should
    be  met with such an open, generous spirit here in a land that seemed
    to trap  and supress such trust.  When he didn't answer immediately,
    Ray grew uneasy,  as if he'd overstepped some boundry. 
     
    "Listen, if ya don' wanna, that's fine.  I just thought ya might be more
    comfortable here insteada some-" 
     
    "Ray."	He stopped the skittish American from turning away with a gentle
    hand on his arm.  Ray looked down, trying not react to the warmth, the
    jolt  delivered by strong fingers. 
     
    "Thank you kindly." 
     
    "Yeah. It's um...no problem." Ray suddenly pulled away. Something didn't
    feel right, not at the moment. He wasn't sure what. "I'm gonna go to
    bed." 
    
    "All right." Fraser watched Ray go into his bedroom, holding a pillow
    tightly. He looked at his wolf. "What?" 
    
    ***
    
    It hit him in his sleep, so he thought it was a dream at first. He could
    see a woman, young and obviously as dead as the ones he had been unprivleged
    enough to talk to when he was with his old precint. But he wasn't as
    afraid of her as he had been of those ones. Not afraid at all. She was
    kind, and she was pure. Happy. 
    
    Then he saw Fraser and himself, saw the dreamselves falling down some
    sort of mine shaft. He was wearing glasses, his normal ones. Except they
    were red. And his hair was...purple? He saw the woman again, and this
    time he was afraid of her. Saw a dirty looking man, and was afraid of
    him. 
    
    He could hear himself screaming as the images came faster, as blood ran.
    He was curled around one of his pillows clutching it tightly. He'd learned
    quickly that he needed to hold something while in one of these visions.
    It was calming, but only moderately so. 
    
    Through the haze of the flash, he heard an echoey knock on the door.
    He tried to answer, tried to sit up, but fell back on the bed, his head
    tossing back and forth as the images intensified. He felt drops of his
    blood trickle past his lips, and to his dream self, it tasted oddly good.
    His stomach clenched in fear. More choking screams made it past his lips.
    
    He could see very far off, and it seemed to become more painful. A blonde
    girl, kind and pure. Corrupted. A man who he felt was his father, even
    though he looked nothing like him. Fighting. Pain. Agony. Burning. He
    screamed again. 
    
    Suddenly the door was open, and the bed was moving. Arms were around
    him, moving him onto his side. Holding him tightly. "Oh God....stop it....I
    can't take it anymore..." 
    
    "Sh. It's ok. Breathe. Just breathe..."
    
    Pained screams turned into wracking sobs, and he knew he was losing it
    now. The vision continued, not ebbing at all. 
    
    Fraser in the snow, looking up at the spangled sky, unafraid of whatever
    it  was that cast a long shadow across the pristine whiteness. 
     
    Fraser. 
     
    Fraser. 
     
    He was talking.  Ray could hear him as the images slowly released him
    and  the shivering tremors began. 
     
    "Shh.  It's okay, Ray. I have you.  Just breath.  It will be all right.
    Shh."  
    Strong, warm arms held him, slowly rocked him. He had not been so comforted
    since he was a toddler.  It felt wonderful.  So right. He was glad he'd
    hugged Fraser in the precinct if this was his reward.  
    Fraser was alarmed.  Ray tried to find his voice to reassure the Mountie.
    
    "...f-frase..." 
     
    "Ray. Can you hear me?" 
     
    "Mmmm." 
     
    "Do you need to go to the hospital?" 
     
    "N-no.	S'Flash," he slurred, grateful for concern he heard in that voice.
    "M'okay." 
     
    "You were screaming." 
     
    "Yeah.	Do that...s'times." 
     
    He felt Fraser brush a hand through his hair.  Was it still blond, he
    wondered.  Ray leaned into the Mountie, fighting the residual pain and
    too  miserable for anything like pride or shame before such willing aid.
    He  needed this man.  That much he recognized from the onset.  He could
    only  hope that someday, Fraser would need him as well. 
     
    "You're certain you don't want to go to the hospital?" 
     
    "Yeah."  He shifted.  "Sorry.  Didn' mean ta ask ya ta stay and have
    ta play  nurse." 
     
    "I don't mind. Not at all.  Tell me what you need." 
     
    //You.// 
     
    "Sleep." 
     
    "Then sleep, Ray." 
     
    "Stay?" 
     
    "Right here." 
     
    And to his everlasting joy, Fraser curled up around him, still holding
    him  in his arms, still stroking his hair.  Ray was disappointed to fall
    asleep  so swiftly.  He would have like to have enjoyed this longer.
    
    ~~~
    
    "Why are you crying?" Fraser whispered, fingers stroking Ray's hair.
    Something had happened while he was with Inspector Thatcher. He knew
    it. He just had to find out what. "Ray, why are you crying?" 
    
    "M'not..." Ray buried his face in Fraser's neck, hugging him closer.
    He never wanted to let go. "Happy....Don't go." 
    
    "Never. I never would."
    
    "Thank you."
    
    "For what?"
    
    "For showing me. You saved my life, I think..."
    
    Fraser wasn't sure what Ray was talking about, but it was scaring him.
    "When?" 
    
    "Three years ago."
    
    "Yes?"
    
    "I saw you. A month before I was Vecchio."
    
    "I'd remember."
    
    "In a flash."
    
    "Ah."
    
    "I knew...there was something, someone waiting for me. I needed that.
    Needed you." 
     
    Fraser smiled gently at the emotion in his lover's voice.  Did Ray know?
    Could he know? The hold he had on Benton Fraser was stronger than silk
    or  steel. He needed Fraser?  Fraser needed Ray to live.  To go on. 
    To face  the world - be it Chicago or the Territories.  He lived, he
    found joy, he  laughed, because of this man Ray Kowalski.  As he had
    done for Ray, so Ray  had done for him - saved him from the depths of
    lonliness and despair.	A  simple hug, a bullet stopped, an offer of everything
    that he was and could  be...How could Fraser not love him? 
    
    He slipped his arms all the way around the American, pulling him into
    his own tight embrace. He buried his face in the spikey hair, smiling.
    "Thank you kindly...." He kissed the top of Ray's head. 
    
    "I love you." Ray whispered.
    
    "And I you..."
    
    


End file.
